Ralph the Wonder Llama

I have been in training. That is not the latest excuse for my continued lack of activity here – there are many more of those that I shan’t bore you with. No. What I need to tell you is that I have been in training for the Edinburgh Half-Marathon, which takes place next Sunday, 27th May. It kicks off at 08:00 BST on the Arthur’s Seat side of Calton Hill, and ends, hopefully, just under two hours later, down by the seaside somewhere in the vicinity of Musselburgh, which is bloody miles away. Miles.

“Madness!”, I hear you cry. Certainly my knees would agree with you. Carrying random knee pain and shin splints is no joke when you’ve got four of each, I can tell you. We llamas are more commonly used to a sedate, nay stately, progress through life. All this charging (well…) about. It’s almost unseemly.

BUT! There is a but. BUT! (See?) There is method in this latest bout of apparent unhinged-ness. Not quite the method I’d originally intended, but then I’ve been so shambolic for much of the past two or three months that I have patently failed to organise what I originally had in mind (for which, Ashe and Turner, my profound apologies – I’ll make it up to you).

All is not lost, however, and much as I loathe asking people for money (English, see – that skill was expunged from the gene pool sometime after Elizabeth I, I think), I’m going to ask you for some money. Not for me, of course, but for Alexander’s Fund. Alexander’s Fund is the charitable trust that exists to raise money to support the treatment costs (which are many) for Alexander Bristowe-Turner, Ashley and Turner’s little boy. He was born with what is known as Kleefstra Syndrome, which is essentially a partial chromosomal deletion that results in slower than normal development, both physical and mental. Crucially, of course, communication is affected, which has put something of a barrier between Al’s bright little mind and the outside world. As with any such condition, early intervention is critical, and Ashley and Turner have had to fight tooth and nail, and make many sacrifices, to get Al the help he needs and deserves.

Of most help, I would guess, has been the Institutes for the Achievement of Human Potential based in Philadelphia that co-ordinates research into and development of programmes of treatment for what is an extremely rare condition. Much of the treatment is very time- and labour-intensive, and some specialised equipment is also required, to say nothing of the costs of regular trips to Philadelphia to asses Al’s progress (which I’m delighted to say has been very good in the past year or so) and design his programme for the subsequent period. All this costs a considerable sum, made the more difficult since Ashley has had to forego, to a great extent, her professional career(s). Worrying about where the money comes from is just another burden.

I am therefore dedicating this run – by far and away the longest I’ve ever attempted – to Alexander’s Fund, to the wee man himself, and to my beloved friends Ashley and Turner. Please, if you are able in these straitened times, make my suffering worthwhile by making a donation, whether in money or air miles (or both!), to Alexander’s Fund, here:

http://www.alexandersfund.org/give-money/

You can read more about Al and Kleefstra Syndrome here:

http://www.alexandersfund.org/kleefstra-syndrome/

Finally, I’d also like you to spread the word in any way you see fit, whether by emailing a link to this page to your friends and family, posting it on Facebook if you use it, or tweeting about it if you are among the Twitterati.

Finally finally – thank you for reading, and thank you in advance for any contribution you are able to make. If you fancy a laugh, come along and watch me suffer. I’ll be the one with the two pairs of orange and grey Nikes, making running look almost indistinguishable from a long series of barely averted falls. Thanks

Lo. Quiet here innit? My fault. No, really. Y’see, during the month before Xmas I couldn’t be bothered to post, and in the month since I haven’t had time. Since I’m currently trapped by snow whilst visiting my folks:

I have a little spare time. Not enough to catch up with all the things that have happened since November, you understand – that will have to wait – but enough to at least remind both of you that I’m still alive.

Anyway, much as I was meant to be back today for work tomorrow, and notwithstanding the fact that by coming back tomorrow I’d almost certainly have missed the gig I have a ticket for in Glasgow, even if it was tomorrow, as I’d convinced myself for the past several weeks, and not today, as it actually is (duh), it’s far too dangerous to drive 470 miles today on snowy and in some places very foggy motorways. It’s melting fast down here, though, and hopefully by tomorrow it will be ok to drive.

On the plus side, it unexpectedly gets me another day with my folks. It would have seemed a very flying visit otherwise. Yesterday we went out en famille to a pub for lunch, which was very pleasant if a little cold. There has been gin, and ale, and fine food, and into the bargain I can stay for roast lamb today. Yum

I’ll fill in the rather large number of gaps soon, promise. I’d do it now but the list is at home, and as you can see, my memory really isn’t up to it. La la.

I am fortunate to have many clever and talented friends. A quick yay, then, for Jane, who’s gone and won an award, and got on the front page of the ‘paper:

http://www.times.co.nz/front-page-feature/drama-show-wins.html

Ever-modest, Janey’s acceptance speech was:

“Being about a banker not seeing the real world around him, it wasn’t that difficult.”

So – wit and biting political satire as well as gong-busting talent. Marvellous

Last night I nearly managed to burn down my flat using fish fingers. Nearly.

I keep meaning to say something before October disappears without a word. Plenty’s happened, but I can’t find a great deal to say much about it. Other people’s lives have seemed more eventful lately, not always for the right reasons. So, random thoughts, in the line of duty:

• The Stone Roses reform – great, wonderful, been wishing for 15 years I could have got to see them, and now, miraculously, a chance! But no, because (despite the best efforts of Mr Donaldo on my behalf – thank you) while there were 220,000 tickets on sale, I couldn’t get one. Boo. Sure, there are tickets available for stupid money on the online tout sites, but I’ve always loathed touts. Evil scum. Still, I’ll probably cave in, I know it. La la.
• I’ve been having fun swanning about the countryside looking for a house to retreat (and ultimately retire) to. This has taken me to some charming little villages where I’ve met some lovely people and found some beautiful scenery. And I’ve seen some lovely (and some not so lovely) houses in some quirkily named streets at the end of some wonderful driving roads. Note to self – keep saving for that MX-5.
• I’ve finished Angry Birds (three of) and so was able to happily delete them from my phone and break another little addiction. Good.
• I’ve bought a (ferociously expensive) ticket to go to Calgary for Xmas and New Year, where I will be able to spend time with three of my four sets of Canadian pals. The Bristowe-Turners live there, as do the Johnston-Simpsons, and the Monkberts are staying close by for a while too. JJ has offered to teach me snowshoeing and skiing (lovely crazy person…), something I’ve always wanted to try. My knees may never forgive me, but hey, I’m in charge here. Sort of.
• I just got paid, for the first time since Dec 2009, which is nice. Nice for my credit card companies at least. Still, it’s a start. Gainful employment does have its advantages.
• It’s Annabel Strachan’s Christening this Sunday, which should be, as they say, a good craic. Looking forward to that. Must iron shirt.
• There’s a beer festival at the Four Mary’s this Fri and Sat, with over 20 real ales on tap (I’ve seen the list – mmmm…) so I shall be in attendance for some of that. Must remember about Sunday.
• Linlithgow Book Festival weekend after next. Another chance to see Chris(topher) Brookmyre, who I missed at Edinburgh due to last minute change of plans in Oxfordshire. Woo.
• Happy Diwali.

I’m sure I’ve missed something, or several somethings, but that’s what I (or, more accurately, you) get for not keeping up. But still, no harm done. I mean, no-one reads this shit, do they?

I’ve been procrastinating so much I haven’t had time to catch up with things here. Sorry about that. There’s only so much time you know. Anyway, I’ve left it long enough that I should be able to give the impression that I have been far too busy to write this, even if it isn’t entirely true. Or indeed at all.

So, since last I wrote, I’ve been to see some things (well, authors, to be fair) at the Edinburgh Book Festival, started a new job, bought a car and been to see one of my favourite bands for the very last time. Exciting eh? Somewhat, indeed, somewhat.

At the book festival I went to see Colin Thubron, and was sufficiently moved by his talk to immediately go next door to buy his new book just so I could get it signed by him. I’ve since read To A Mountain In Tibet, and it is excellent. Part travelogue, part elegy, it recounts his pilgrimage to Kailas in the wake, as it were, of the death of his mother, the last of his immediate family. It is, understandably, somewhat more personal and emotional than much of his work, and a refreshing change for it, in my opinion.

I also managed to catch Mark Tully, talking about his latest book, India: The Road Ahead, which discusses, as the title suggests, where India is heading in its rush to become one of the world’s leading economic powers. It is a conflicted tale, as ever with India, and (Sir) Mark’s inseparable affection for and frustration with India is evident, as always, as it is for many of us who cherish the place. It was wonderful to see him in the flesh at last.

I reflected later that what these two men had in common, for me, was that they seem to be some of the last representatives of a generation of writers, on travel or Asia or both, the like of whom we may never quite see again. Proper old literary gentlemen, and utterly charming.
Read the rest of this entry »

While I was in India, my friends JJ and Sara got married in Calgary which was, obviously, most excellent. Except that I, and (it turns out) lots of other people couldn’t get there. So, being even-handed types, they held a UK version of the ceremony in sunny Oxfordshire on, as luck would have it, the day after Cropredy.

So it was that Donald very kindly drove me the extra hour south of Banbury to reach the environs of Wantage (West Challow to be exact) where he dropped me at my guest house before heading back north. A quick change and a pot of tea later, and I was off to the nuptials.

The event was held at Lains Barn, just outside Wantage, and said barn provided a very English backdrop to proceedings:

Read the rest of this entry »

…or nine, in fact, I now see. Ahem. I’ve been busy. Honest. My excuse, sticking to it.

Anyway, where were we? Well, I was in sunny Oxfordshire, a couple of weeks back now, on the annual pilgrimage to Cropredy. Different personnel this year: Donald was in attendance as usual, but Adele stayed at home, not fancying the long trip when six months pregnant. Bolstering numbers, however, were Mr and Mrs B, who were on a touring holiday of Englandshire with their two dogs, Polly and Archie. We gathered in Banbury the day before, as usual, and there was much rejoicing.

The following three days were spent basking in the sunshine (mainly), partaking of the fine local produce and taking in what was, again, for the most part a cracking bill (we’ll leave UB40 out of the discussion for these purposes, though we did meet someone in a pub on the Wednesday who was trying desperately to find a way to go solely to see them. Takes all sorts.) Highlights this year included the mental Hayseed Dixie, the awesome Seasick Steve (who had a certain John-Paul Jones on bass) and the knockabout precision of the Blockheads (with Guy Pratt, erstwhile Pink Floyd touring bassist, who Mr and Mrs B bumped into in the crowd, along with his mum), and of course the inimitable FC themselves, who opened the festival with a very short acoustic set on the Thursday, and closed it with their three-hour extravaganza on the Saturday. This year’s middle segment featured the entirety of Babbacombe Lee, as per their previous winter tour, which I’d missed on account of being somewhere warmer.

We all (well, apart from Mrs B) kept one ear on the cricket:

as England reached the summit of the ICC Test rankings. Marvellous.

On the Saturday evening, as we waited for Fairport to come on, we were treated to a beautiful sunset in one direction:

and a full moon rising in the other:

All in all, a fine weekend was had by all, and it was great to finally have the Bs there, after many years’ persuasion. The weather was as kind as it gets, and it was a welcome relief for me from the job-hunting stress I was suffering at the time. On the Sunday, Donald very kindly drove me an hour further south so that I could attend the UK leg of JJ and Sara’s wedding, more of which anon (anon meaning, in this case, probably next month, the way things are going…)

I’ve been meaning to update this for a few days now, since there I have news and pictures and such. But I have been having a complete chill out since Friday and have done little but listen to cricket on the radio and get some proper broadband installed (yay!) This afternoon I’m off to the book festival with my friend Kate (to see what, I know not) and then to a reception/garden party thing hosted by the OU (where we once worked together, many years ago).

Anyway, one piece of good news to share is that I found out on Friday morning that I have at last secured gainful employment, bringing to an end a job hunt that had become unreasonably stressful, hence the complete downing of tools over the weekend. I’ve got a contract with RBS in Edinburgh Park, just this side of Edinburgh, that lasts for almost a year, which is almost unheard of. It’s one stop on the train, so not much of a commute, and it’s as stable as an IT contract really gets. I am pleased. I am also mightily relieved.

So – I’m going to get back to the cricket, then I’ll head off for an afternoon’s culture and free drinks. If you’re really lucky, over the next day or two, I’ll tell you about my trip to sunny Oxfordshire last weekend.

Hello. I thought seeing as it was the last day of July I’d better say something, otherwise there’d be an unsightly gap on the history list. I could always have backdated it tomorrow, I suppose, but then I’d have just kept putting it off. Then again, how do you know I haven’t? Hmm.

Anyway, I have been a bit busy. I’ll keep it brief. Basically once I’d got back and seen people and caught up with myself, I started doing research on getting books published and soon realised that while it wasn’t ever going to be the road to riches (unless your name is Rowling), it seems that even with the fairest of fair winds and the best of luck, it would take a year, and still not give one enough to live on. It quickly became obvious that I would have to get a job, which meant that thoughts of bunking off to Canada for the autumn would have to be put aside (sorry Ashe et al – wouldn’t have been my ideal choice).

With that little slice of reality accepted, I realised I’d have to find a place to live. I fancied a change from Edinburgh, and in any case no-one I know lives there any more. So I’ve rented a flat in Linlithgow, a little way west of town, more country-fied and quieter. That was the relatively easy bit. The thing that’s really doing my head in is trying to find a new job. It’s demonstrating to me quite how out of touch I am, if nothing else. Will have to start doing some homework to get myself back up to speed a bit. If and when I manage to get something, other plans are forming, but more of those anon. And in the meantime, there’s always the book to finish. Not that I really know what “finished” means any more…

Oh, and just btw, have been following the cricket on the radio, not having a TV just now, and I have to say that the events surrounding the Ian Bell run out left me first dreading the depths of rancour to which the series would plummet, followed almost immediately by actual joy at the actions of MS Dhoni and his team. He didn’t have to withdraw the appeal – Bell was a lucky boy not to have his slackness punished – though I think it was the Right Thing To Do, and he was a proper gent about it. Well played, sir.